


feel the heat on the rise

by Lire_Casander



Series: nothing ever goes the right way [5]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blow Jobs, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mentions of hospitals, Suggestive Themes, The author doesn't know what she's doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26678590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: tk knows he shouldn’t, not while in recovery, but he’s only human and he has needs
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: nothing ever goes the right way [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943992
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	feel the heat on the rise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curlyhairedgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlyhairedgirl/gifts).



> written for [tarlosweek2020](https://tarlosweek2020.tumblr.com/), **_day 5: looking at each other + i thought i lost you + sexy_**
> 
> written for [Vicky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlyhairedgirl/profile) who asked for **_please don’t leave me_** from my [bad things happen bingo card](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/626174763915722752/welcome-to-my-very-own-bad-things-happen-bingo)
> 
> beta’ed by [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly/pseuds/meloingly). any remaining mistakes are my own
> 
> title from _Roller Coaster Love_ by Hanson

There’s a bead of sweat traveling down that olive skin that TK follows with his eyes — and how he wishes he could follow it with his tongue — until that pearl of salty water disappears beneath the waistband of a pair of jeans that TK finds utterly offensive in this particular moment of his life.

“Like what you see?” Carlos asks with a knowing smile as he finishes taking his t-shirt off. 

“I don’t see _anything_ ,” TK complaints, his voice reaching a whiny peak he hadn’t realized he could even create. “You’re far too dressed for my liking.”

“Well,” Carlos laughs, winking at him. “You’re wearing far too many clothes for my liking, too, but the doctor said no frisky business while you’re healing from busting your stitches, so you won’t hear me protesting.”

“You’re no fun,” TK mumbles, even though he knows his boyfriend is right. That doesn’t prevent him from wanting to forget about his own, self-inflicted injuries when Carlos chooses to follow his words with a flowing movement of his flexing muscles as he throws the discarded t-shirt toward the laundry basket.

TK Strand has never regretted anything he’s done — not even proposing to Alex. But right now he's regretting the recklessness that has led him to this predicament — having to rest instead of having fun with his boyfriend because he was playing the hero. He never thought _this_ would be the payment for saving a woman from a sure death caused by water and fire.

“I can think of _at least_ half a dozen things we could do that won’t involve me making any kind of physical effort,” he suggests, pouting when Carlos rolls his eyes. “What?”

“I’m trying to behave here,” Carlos tells him, while his fingers graze the button holding his jeans buttoned up. “You’re making it really hard.”

TK smirks coyly. “Is that the only thing that’s hard?”

Carlos scoffs, but he stops unbuttoning his pants. “Now that was just _bad_.”

“Hey, don’t judge,” TK replies, lifting his hands up in the air as though surrendering. “I’ve been quite deprived of any kind of _action_ for the past couple of weeks.”

Carlos’ face contorts in a painful grimace, his eyes becoming guarded as he steps closer to TK. “You were shot,” he whispers. “I thought I lost you. I believed we wouldn’t have another chance. So please, don’t say you’ve been deprived of anything. You almost _died_.”

TK knows his stunt at the hospital — the coma, the long hours by his bed, the uncertainty and the fear — had taken its toll on the people he loved, the people who loved him back. It’s helped him understand who he is and what he wants to choose for his life right now, but it’s also put a few things he hadn’t been aware of into perspective.

One of those things is the way Carlos Reyes feels about him.

TK had kept him at a distance, always thinking that it was only sex — and maybe, in the beginning, it was _just_ sex. But TK has been lying to himself about so many things lately, from choosing to ignore the way Alex had distanced himself from their relationship to the way Carlos had been looking at him. Maybe he’d known all along, but he’s chosen to _not_ see it.

He’d thought that he was triggered by the champagne and the proposal comment Carlos made on their first, failed date. He’d thought he needed the physical pain that the bar brawl had inflicted on his skin. He’d thought he was protecting himself when he told Carlos that he didn’t know if they could ever become an _us_. The truth, he’s finally admitted to himself, was that he had been terrified. Terrified that he’d started to develop feelings for the cop who always knew the right things to say. Terrified that he’d wanted Carlos to be the one comforting him after that fight. Terrified that his fears of spiraling once again if he got reminded of what he left back in New York weren’t strong enough to keep him from falling.

He’d thought he’d been immune to Carlos Reyes’ charms.

TK sighs, not ready to admit defeat. But he’s beginning to feel the tension leaving his body and his limbs feel heavier than before. “I just want to—” 

His words are cut off by his own yawn, and Carlos laughs. “Off to bed, Tyler,” he says in a whisper that reverberates in the sudden silence. “C’mon, cariño, you need your rest.”

TK nods against his own desire to stay awake and take advantage of the fact that they are alone for the night — and will be for even longer, since Carlos has a couple of days off work. He sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking off his shoes before stripping down until he’s just in his underwear. Carlos helps him underneath the covers, and he joins TK a few moments later, after he’s removed the jeans that TK had found so offensive merely minutes ago.

TK hadn’t realized how tired he actually was until he finds himself drifting away the moment his head hits the pillow, all the tension and the stress from the day bleeding out of him just like his injury had several hours before, when he tried to save Ellen from a sure death. Almost blindly, he reaches for Carlos and hums contentedly when he feels Carlos’ heat next to him, that skin beneath his fingers pulsing with a steady heartbeat.

“Carlos,” he mumbles, eyes dropping and voice slurred. He doesn’t know how on Earth he wanted to have some bedroom fun merely minutes ago when he’s now so knackered that he could sleep for days.

“Yes, cariño?”

“Please, don’t leave me,” he whispers.

Carlos sneaks his arm over TK’s waist and pulls him closer, until TK’s back is pressed against Carlos’ chest and he can feel Carlos’ heartbeat. “Wasn’t planning on it, love,” he replies, kissing TK’s nape softly.

TK doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have too, because one moment he’s shivering at the feeling of Carlos’ lips on his neck, and the next there’s light seeping through the half-closed blinds and those very same lips that took care of his skin the night before are now traveling south, leading a trail of kisses down his chest.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Carlos greets him, looking up when TK stirs obnoxiously, almost cat-like in his need to let his boyfriend know that he’s awake.

“Good morning indeed,” he replies with a smirk. He pushes back into Carlos’ body until his thigh is pressing against Carlos’ leg and his hip collides against his boyfriend’s more than ready body. “Seems you’re completely up,” he says suggestively, one eyebrow arched and a smirk blooming in his face.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Carlos tells him, rolling away. TK wants to mourn the loss of warmth almost instantly — he will never admit it, but he _whines_. “I should go to the—”

“I swear to God, Reyes, if you say you should go to the bathroom,” TK stops him, fingers already curling around Carlos’ wrist to halt him in place before he slides off the bed. 

“The doctors said—”

“I know what the doctors said,” TK speaks carefully, slowly. “Apparently they also said I would have some brain damage after the coma, and here I am.”

“But—”

“But I will have severe brain damage if you don’t come back here and let me greet you the way you deserve on your day off,” TK finishes firmly, tugging at Carlos until his boyfriend falls back against the mattress. 

He takes a moment to just stare at Carlos — at the naked chest and the low-waist pajama pants, at the unstyled curls that rebel against his forehead, at the strong arms he gets to be held by at night, at the soft smile and the intense brown stare that’s now boring holes in TK’s green eyes. He loves what he sees — he loves _who_ he’s gazing upon — and he isn’t about to start analyzing whether or not it’s too soon for this kind of declaration. For once, he’s about to follow his father’s advice.

Once he knows, he just _knows_.

Carlos huffs but falls back into TK, kissing him slowly, open-mouthed, until all TK can smell is the distinct scent that’s all Carlos’ — until all he can feel is Carlos’ body against him, hard, lean and ready. TK lifts one hand to cup Carlos’ neck, crushing their lips together hungrily. 

“TK, wait, wait a second,” Carlos stops their kissing, his head leaning back against the pillow. “Are you okay with this?”

“I will be,” TK replies with a whine, hand roaming down Carlos’ exposed chest. “Once you stop being so stubborn and come closer.”

“You want me to _come_ ,” Carlos whispers, the innuendo evident in his voice as he moves once again, supporting his weight above TK’s body on his hands, now firmly planted on both sides of TK’s head. 

“Stop being such a brat,” TK protests. “Kiss me already.”

TK can see the moment Carlos chooses to give in to his pleas and surrenders to him — the moment his eyes stops traveling down TK’s face to his chest, the moment Carlos breathes in deeply, as though to steady himself, when his gaze stumbles upon the gauze and the bandages — because his boyfriend shudders almost imperceptibly before leaning in and dropping a kiss on TK’s lips.

A very chaste, very close-lipped kiss.

TK whimpers.

“Needy, aren’t we?” Carlos teases from his position above TK, eyes intently scanning TK’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“What do you think?” TK spits, because it’s been quite a while since they last were intimate — way too long for TK’s liking, but their situation has been precarious, to say the least, and he hasn’t wanted to ruin whatever frail friendship they had been developing — but TK is only human. He has _needs_.

And he has a boyfriend who is currently refusing to move because TK managed to bust his stitches and has been told to rest.

TK knows he should be freaked out about the medical issues at hand, but he can’t help the fear seeping through the cracks of the mask he’s managed to keep on for the most part of five months as he thinks of Carlos as his boyfriend. He doesn’t think he’s ever been with someone like Carlos — someone who wants him for himself, someone who looks out for him, someone who isn’t ashamed to be seen with him, someone who stays beside his hospital bed when he’s injured on the job — and the mere thought of fucking it up is threatening to eat him from inside.

But then Carlos’ expression softens, and his brown eyes sparkle with something akin to mischief, and TK is brought back to the task at hand.

“What?” he manages to say, looking up at Carlos.

That’s the last complete word that gets past his lips in a while.

Carlos leans in to capture TK’s lips in a passionate kiss, diving right into TK’s needs and shaking them up. He’s still not touching TK’s body, but TK can’t make himself care at all, lost as he is in a kiss that’s managing to make his mind go silent for the first time in a long while.

Carlos starts a journey down TK’s skin, leaving a trail of kisses on his neck and his chest, carefully avoiding the injury that glares at him, a crude reminder of everything they both could have lost twice in a short span of time. TK lifts a hand to cup Carlos’ cheek when his boyfriend stops, unable to move as his attention is captured by the white dressing over the wound. He caresses Carlos’ skin softly, as if giving him permission to go further down, and, after a second, the motion finally gets Carlos moving once again.

Carlos keeps going down, kissing his stomach and lapping at his navel as he pushes TK’s pants down. He’s never been happier about his choice to sleep commando than in this moment, when Carlos frees him from the confines of clothing and assesses TK’s cock with way too hungry eyes. His boyfriend smirks and leans down once again, nipping at TK’s hip, kissing and biting the inside of TK’s thighs, but missing the only part of his anatomy that TK wants touched right at this moment.

It’s not that he isn’t enjoying Carlos’ ministrations — he tries to say as much, but he doesn’t know if his slurred speech comes out intelligible at all — but he wishes Carlos would go straight to the point.

“Carlos,” he whines, unable to stop writhing on top of the sheets that have started tangling around his ankles. “ _Please_.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you being so polite,” Carlos teases. 

TK glares at him, mustering as much need in his gaze as he can, but Carlos isn’t paying attention to his face anymore. He’s back down to his task at hand — driving TK crazy.

From there, TK learns what torture is — and he’s grunting in distress as Carlos keeps mouthing his skin but never reaching the place TK wants him on, and he’s going crazy with need. He tries to keep his hips from buckling whenever Carlos’s mouth gets closer to his cock, but it’s to no avail.

By the time Carlos starts licking long strips up his erection, TK believes he’s already gone crazy with lust and need.

But Carlos finally, _finally_ , reaches the tip, even if he neglects it for a moment to lick down the other side of TK’s cock. TK wants to threaten his boyfriend with something, _anything_ , but his brain is seemingly not working properly — how could it _ever_ — and all that comes out of his mouth is a string of expletives that make Carlos chuckle, the movement reverberating across TK’s whole body, giving him chills.

“Please,” he can’t stop whining, louder and more high-pitched every time.

“All in due time, Tiger,” Carlos tells him. “I have to make sure you’re not going to rip your stitches once again from overexertion.”

“Carlos!” TK protests, fingers balling the sheets underneath him so tight that he fears his stitches won’t be the only thing ripping off today. 

“You have to stay still,” Carlos instructs him. “Or else your injury would reopen from the effort, and I’ll have to stop doing this and take you to the hospital.”

“I promise,” TK mumbles, almost incoherently. “I promise.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever been still for even a second in your life,” Carlos jokes. He doesn’t say anything else, for he’s once again diving in, this time tongue grazing ever so slightly — ever so _torturing_ — over TK’s cock.

Before he can complain though, Carlos’ mouth engulfs him, and all TK can feel is the warm wetness of tongue and teeth covering him whole, sucking and lapping up and down until all he can feel is a nice blankness around him.

He loses track of time while Carlos keeps up his ministrations, one finger finds its stealth way up TK’s thigh until it brushes TK’s entrance. Carlos has been aware, from almost the beginning of their sexcapades, that TK has a penchant for this particular experience — for the feeling of being full somehow, in any way he can gather. So Carlos has always been so giving about it, and this time shouldn’t have been any different, if only for the fact that TK’s senses are heightened by the knowledge that he could have died — that he could have disappeared and there would have been someone outside his blood family mourning that loss. 

TK has never felt as irreplaceable as he’s feeling right now, with Carlos’ tongue drawing a new map on the thick veins of his cock and Carlos’ finger asking for permission to give him a mind-blowing experience.

“Carlos,” he tries to warn his boyfriend, he’s not going to last long — not even half of what he’d lasted when he’d been a horny teenager seeking pleasure in dark corners with even darker guys. “Carlos, I don’t—”

Carlos hums around TK’s cock, sucking in that particular way that sends TK’s consciousness flying outside the window, and suddenly — far too soon, TK must admit — he’s building up to his own orgasm, whiteness surging through him as he reaches a peak, unable to stop himself. Carlos doesn’t move from his position, mouth full, red lips noticeably swollen from where TK can see them, looking up at him as though TK were some sort of god worth worshipping.

He can’t help the wail that escapes through his lips as he finds release, spurting everything he’s got inside — quite literally — all down an eager Carlos’ throat.

His eyes close on their own volition after a few seconds, too numb to even care, while his world resumes the spinning that had come to a halt the moment Carlos’ lips had touched his skin. When TK opens his eyes, the waves of pleasure finally receding, he’s looking straight into Carlos’ worried gaze, brown eyes searching TK’s face for any sign of discomfort. 

“I’m fine,” he reassures Carlos, lifting a hand to Carlos’ back and lifting it up and down his spine. “You take good care of me, Reyes.”

“Someone has to, Strand,” Carlos teases lightly, rolling off from above TK and lying on his side. His hand finds its way to TK’s, and Carlos intertwines their fingers. “You’re prone to forget about self-care a lot.”

“I’m more worried about caring about my boyfriend right now,” TK says, his free hand sneaking down Carlos’ chest until it grazes the waistband of his sweatpants.

“I, uh,” Carlos starts, blushing furiously. TK arches a brow at him, curious. “I might have, ah, you know.” He shrugs hopelessly, and TK has to bite back a laugh.

“Like a teenager, Reyes?” he taunts his boyfriend, even if it’s just slight banter. “You can’t imagine how hot I think that is.”

Carlos snorts, and TK turns to fully look at him. “I love you, Carlos Reyes,” he says, catching himself by surprise. He hadn’t been planning on saying those words after a hot and messy blowjob session, but they somehow have slipped off his tongue.

For the shocked look in Carlos’ face, he can tell he's not the only one astonished. It takes a fleeting moment for Carlos to recompose himself before smiling softly. “I love you too, TK Strand.”

TK wants to say something, but instead of forming words he yawns. Quite obnoxiously, if he’s being honest with himself. Now it’s his turn to blush, but Carlos dismisses the awkwardness with a gentle nudge at his shoulder.

“Now, why don’t you get some more sleep?” he suggests. “You have to recover.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” TK whispers, old fears creeping back up front in his mind.

“Always,” Carlos promises. “I’ll always be there when you wake up, if you let me, Ty.”

TK sighs contentedly, repositioning himself against Carlos’ body and closing his eyes once again. “Sounds like a good promise to keep, Reyes. Might even take you upon it.”

Carlos drops a kiss on his shoulder and whispers something similar to _you better_ as TK allows slumber to claim him once again, surrounded by love and a promise of forever he plans on clinging to.

**Author's Note:**

> no, i didn't know what i was doing.


End file.
